


My Destiny Is You

by TargaryenHeaven



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 36 years after the battle of King's Landing, A bunch of little Targlings, Cleaning the tag since y'all don't know how to behave, Daddy! Jon, Daenerys and Jon are grandparents, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, King Jon Snow, Mommy! Dany, Queen Daenerys, R Plus L Equals J, Targaryen Restoration, Targlings (ASoIaF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 23:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TargaryenHeaven/pseuds/TargaryenHeaven
Summary: Queen Daenerys has a very special gift for her King's sixtieth nameday.





	My Destiny Is You

**Author's Note:**

> I won't even say anything about the idiotic behavior under this tag. It left me speechless because I've never seen anyone get so mad about a fic that they didn't enjoy. It's ridiculous to me.
> 
> Anyways, I had a rant prepared, but I said 'fuck it', it's none of my business and there is nothing I can do about it, so I wrote this fic instead.
> 
> It's Daenerys and Jon as parents and grandparents. It's what my babies deserved. You can check the notes at the end, since it's a fic focused on Targaryen restoration, I made a family tree with names and ages. I gotta admit, I kinda like the pairings.
> 
> I was about to remove the Dany/Jon tag from FDKTWYT, but I realized that I actually don't give a fuck. It really doesn't matter. I thank you all for starting that mini fan club for that fic on Twitter. I see you all. ❤️
> 
> I know you're gonna come across some stupid mistakes, please squint and try to ignore them. 😌

The first ray of sunlight shines in his face through the open windows. The gentle touch of the summer breeze on his sweaty skin covers his body in tiny bumps and he groans in response, rubbing his eyes with his fists.  
  
The left side of the bed is empty, the sheets carefully fixed, not a single wrinkle on it. It must've been Dany, he thinks, otherwise the maid would've woken him up.  
  
He's a little hurt, he admits to himself. It's his sixtieth nameday, a special one. He expected Dany to greet him with her usual big smile, but he tells himself that she probably had an urgent meeting to attend.  
  
The mirror in front of him reflects an image of an old, yet comely king. The black curls are now as white as his late friend Ghost, falling over his broad shoulders. His beard is nicely trimmed, graying. If you squint you can still see the dark hairs.  
  
The attire he chooses for the occasion is neither in Targaryen or Stark colors. Jon's trousers are white, gold embroidery on both sides. His tunic is gray, with gold and red needlework on the chest area. It is supposed to be a dragon, he concludes, but whoever made it did a terrible job. He's thankful for it, though.  
  
Three knocks on the door pull his mind back into the present. A maid comes in, a young Dothraki woman, greeting her King with a slight bow of the head.  
  
"Your Grace. Queen Daenerys has requested your presence in the Throne Room."  
  
"Right now? Did she tell you why?"  
  
"No, Your Grace. Only that you should come to her immediately."  
  
"Alright. Thank you."

_Seven hells._

* * *

Two guards follow their King as he's dragging his feet towards the Throne Room. He doesn't wanna say anything, but his ass and back hurt from sitting on the throne. It's so unbearably uncomfortable that he once sat on the ground to stretch his legs although Dany was the pregnant one. She laughed hard at him then, calling him a "grumpy pregnant lady".

He's mentally preparing for yet another boring meeting now that his nameday celebration has gone to shit. All he wanted was to spend this day with his wife, lay on her chest and enjoy the feeling of her fingers massaging his scalp.  
  
Yes, he would very much like that.

Guards open the door and his breath hitches. It's crowded, way too crowded than he expected. He can see so many familiar faces, that his heart stops beating for a moment. There are no advisers in sight. No Maesters or Masters. Only his children and grandchildren. All of them, he thinks, although the tears in his eyes prevent him from taking a better look.

His shaky legs barely support his weight as he's approaching his children, all lined up in front of the throne. Before he reaches his firstborn, he's thanking the old gods and the new for giving him this gift.

_Princess Elaenora._  
  
Jon thinks of her as his pride. His warrior princess. His firstborn daughter. The heir to the Iron Throne. Ella stands before him proudly, she must have cut her hair, he notices, it's barely touching her shoulders now.  
  
"Father," Ella bows with a smile on her face. "Happy nameday."  
  
"My warrior princess," Jon smiles back at her, touching her cheek. Her eyes sparkle under the sunlight as she looks at him, her soft hands touching his much bigger, rougher ones. It's been so long since she was small enough to fit in his arms. So long since he watched as the love of his life held their child at her breast for the first time. He remembers it all. He will never forget.  
  
Next to Ella is her husband, Lord Hoster Tully, son of Lord Edmure. A man unusually big in size, with a long, auburn beard and wide shoulders, and in front of him their three children. _I sincerely hope he is nothing like uncle Edmure_, Sansa joked on the day of the Princess' wedding.  
  
"Grandfather," princess Daenerys greets the old king. Jon sees his wife and daughter in her. Her skin is as pale as her mother's, her hair just as silver. A young, innocent beauty, only thirteen, yet smarter than the Queen's inadequate advisers. _Daenerys the Bright_, people call her.  
  
Aeleron, on the other hand, favors his father. His auburn hair and dark eyes are those of a Tully, on his shoulders a blue satin cape, fit for the future Lord of Riverrun.

"Happy nameday, grandfather, you're getting old!" Young Aegon exclaims, throwing himself into his grandfather's arms. Jon strokes the prince's hair, then pulls away to take a better look at the boy. "You're growing, my prince."  
  
"Aye, grandfather, I'm almost as big as Aeleron!" Aegon shouts, drawing a laugh from his parents.

_Prince Balerys._

The first son born to Jon and Daenerys. When Jon first held his son, he couldn't say whether it was his appearance that made him so emotional or just the sight of his queen grinning on her birthing bed.

_"Dany, he's perfect. Look at him," Jon coos, holding the newborn babe in his arms while Maester Vyrion is checking for any possible complications under the queen's drenched nightgown._   
  
_"Yes, love, I see him," Dany says, tears streaming down her face._   
  
_"It's a silly question, your Grace, but are you feeling alright?"_   
  
_"I'm as good as I can be, Maester, thank you," Daenerys replies, excitedly._   
  
_Jon places the babe in Dany's arms, then moves a piece of hair behind her ear. When he kisses her forehead, he tastes sweat, and when he kisses her lips, he tastes tears. Much to Dany's relief, her son came out easily, eager to meet his parents, leaving her in a state of pure bliss and happiness._   
  
_Jon gently traces his finger along his son's dark, still moist eyebrow. "Our son needs a name," he whispers._   
  
_"That he does."_   
  
_"Dany, he's gonna have dark hair, you see? His hair is dark, it's not like Ella's, look," Jon can barely hold his excitement, and it only brings more tears to Dany's eyes._   
  
_"I thought you said you wanted them to be different than everyone else," Dany giggles._   
  
_"Well, yeah, but, I mean, we have a son, Dany! And he looks just like me. He's gonna be a good lad."_   
  
_"Prince Jon, then?" Dany asks him, looking down at her son._   
  
_"No, not Jon."_   
  
_"Oh, not another Aegon, I'm begging you."_   
  
_For a moment, they stare at each other. Then both start laughing._   
  
_"Good one," Jon sneers._   
  
_Dany wipes her tears as the prince is suckling on her breast. The door of the chamber open, and when Jon sees Ella's small, chubby face, his heart almost jumps out of his chest. Lorri hands him the princess, now a two year old, but the princess opens her arms for her mother._   
  
_Jon holds her in his arms as they both sit next to Dany and the babe. He kisses her cheek, then takes her small hand in his. " Meet your brother, Ella."_   
  
_Ella says nothing. She observes her mother and the unknown child in her arms. "It's your brother, sweetling," Dany smiles. "And I think I have a perfect name for him."_   
  
_"You do?" Jon wipes his tears._   
  
_"Black hair, black eyes. And his father is gonna teach him how to fight. How to be a warrior, so everyone fears him. But he's also gonna be kind and loyal to his family. I don't know why, but I thought of the Black Dread."_   
  
_Jon quirks his eyebrow. "Balerion?"_   
  
_"No, not Balerion. Maybe-"_   
  
_"Balerys," Jon finished._   
  
_Dany nods, holding her son's hand. "Balerys."_

People call him Balerys the Black. Jon has no idea how can any man be that tall, especially when both of his parents look like children compared to him. But whatever it is that made him grow, Jon cherishes it.  
  
"Father," Balerys lowers his head, fingers intertwined under his toned stomach.  
  
"Good to see you, son," Jon pulls him in for a hug before turning to his daughter-in-law and giving her the same attention. "Lady Arella, I'm glad you could make it."  
  
"We're happy to be here, Your Grace. Happy nameday."  
  
When Balerys announced that he would be marrying Lady Arella Arryn, it was Sansa Stark who was the first one to laugh. She knew her father, Robin, the meek and spoiled boy better than anyone. But that same spoiled boy Sansa knew became a father at eighteen and lady Arella was just the first of many children from her father's rather happy marriage.  
  
She was also the first one to give the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms a grandchild.  
  
Jon, a trueborn Targaryen, stands next to his mother, his dark curls covering his onyx eyes. His grandfather might be aging, but he's just as comely as he used to be, and his body is almost as firm, but at only fourteen, the young prince's muscled arms are just as wide. There was not a better name for the Targaryen prince. After all, both of his grandfathers carried the same name.  
  
Helenys and Elaerion stand side by side, waiting for Jon to approach them. He opens his arms for them, hugging them tightly when they wrap their small hands around his waist. "Oh, how I missed you," Jon pats their heads.  
  
"We missed you, too, grandfather," Helenys replies.  
  
"Happy nameday."  
  
It is a happy nameday, indeed, Jon thinks as he's walking towards his third child, who's waiting for him with her arms wide open.

_Princess Aurora._

Often called the _Charming Princess_. Aurora breaths in her father's scent, her eyes watering when he kisses her forehead.  
  
"It's been so long, father," Aurora murmurs against his neck. Her usually fair skin is darker, bronze even, her smile as radiant as ever. "I missed you so much."  
  
"I missed you, too, my beautiful daughter," Jon rubs her cheeks with his thumbs. "How long has it been?"  
  
"Far too long, father."  
  
As much as she loves the sunny beaches of the Bay of Dragons, a part of Aurora will always remain in King's Landing.  
  
Considered the most beautiful woman in Westeros, Aurora has always had a wild heart. She loved putting bells in her silver waves when she was younger, spending her time with the Dothraki and riding horses from dusk till dawn.  
  
Even now, Jon observes, she's wearing riding trousers underneath her dress. He smiles at that. She reminds him of Dany when she was young.  
  
"Your Grace," a gruff voice greets him. Riakh, Aurora's Dothraki husband bows respectfully. On his left side is a young dark haired boy, Iago, on his left a small silver haired girl, Rayna.  
  
Jon crouches before his grandchildren, pinches Rayna's nose, drawing a giggle from her. "I take it you enjoyed Essos?"  
  
"We saw a statue of grandmother in Meereen!" Rayna blurts out. "It was huge!"  
  
"And Drogon, too! You should come visit us, grandfather, we miss you," Iago lowers his voice, taking Jon's hand. "I miss your lessons."  
  
"I promise, we will come as soon as we can."  
  
Meereen had a special place in Queen's heart. It was the beginning of everything. The beginning of her reign. The beginning of her new life.  
  
But when the Queen heard that her daughter was in love with a Dothraki man all those years ago, it rubbed her the wrong way. She couldn't say why. Perhaps it was her own experience that prevented her from making a fair judgement.

_"Father, please, talk some sense into her!" A 17 year old Aurora screams while her mother's eye is twitching. "I am not a child!"  
_  
_"You are a child!" Daenerys shouts. "You are my child, and you will sit down and listen to me."  
_  
_"I will not,"_ _ Aurora backs away from the dining table. "It's not fair, mother."_

_Daenerys takes a deep breath. "Sit down, Aurora," she says calmly.  
_   
_"I will not."  
_   
_"Aurora, sit down."  
_   
_"I will not."  
_   
_Jon can almost pinpoint the moment Aurora touches Daenerys' last nerve.  
_   
_"Sit down!" Daenerys shouts, louder this time, startling both her husband and her daughter.  
_   
_Jon doesn't know why, but he sits. Perhaps it's the look on his wife's face. Perhaps he doesn't wanna be the next one to get scolded.  
_   
_Only when Aurora sits next to him, Daenerys lowers her voice.  
_   
_"Not once in your life did we tell you what to do, Aurora. Not once. You leave before the sun comes up, you come back after the sun sets. And we never tell you anything, because we trust you."  
_   
_"If you trusted me, you'd leave me alone. I know I'm a woman, mother but-"  
_   
_"That's not why we're worried, love," Jon gently puts his hand over hers. "The realm might still frown at the thought of us treating our daughters the way we treat our sons, but we value you as much as we value them, you know that."  
_   
_Aurora sighs. "I know, father. That's not what I meant, forgive me. But please, tell me, why won't you let me be with him? He would never do anything to hurt me."  
_   
_"We know, and we want to trust him. But you can't keep sneaking out of the Keep to see him, love. The Dothraki never stay in one place for too long. I want you to think about what you want and come to me when you make a decision."  
_   
_"I know what I want, mother."  
_   
_Jon and Daenerys share a look. Somehow they both knew they'd eventually have to sit with their children and have "the talk", but hoped for a little more time. Dany loves the protective side of Jon, and Jon loves the stern side of Dany. It's a dynamic.  
_   
_"Tell you what," Jon breaks the silence. "Invite him to supper. Tell him, if he really loves you, he will meet your parents, who also happen to be the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. What do you think, Dany?"  
_   
_"Sounds good to me. Tell him it's not an order. He doesn't have to do it if he doesn't want to. But then, you will stop seeing him."  
_   
_"And if he ever tries to hurt you, I'll geld him," Jon says, hiding a smile behind the dark look on his face.  
_   
_"I will tell him," Aurora smiles. "And don't worry, father, I'd do it myself."_

Jon thinks of his children as his treasure. One child became two, two became three, three became four, and so on and so on. And every time it was Jon holding Dany's hand while she was screaming. It was Jon wiping the sweat off her forehead, kissing her lips, cutting the cord, watching as she was feeding the small bundle of joy they created.  
  
It was not an easy road, but it was the road they walked together.

_Prince Damaerion._

Standing next to his wife, Damaerion holds his daughter Sansa's hand, while her sister Anya is showing her grandfather her new dagger, black and sharp, before he can even greet her properly.  
  
"A dragonglass dagger!" Jon crouches before the silver-haired princess. "Would you look at that."  
  
"Father had it made for me, do you like it?"  
  
"I think you should stay with me in King's Landing, so I can teach you how to properly use it."  
  
"She would love that, believe me," Damaerion nods his head before sharing a hug with his father. "Happy nameday. You look well."  
  
"Thank you, son. Catelyn," Jon eyes his daughter-in-law, and the sigil embroidered on her gown. A dragon and a wolf.  
  
"Uncle," the auburn-haired woman acknowledges.  
  
_Uncle._  
  
It took him a long time to get used to the fact that his son would be marrying his sister's <strike>cousin's</strike> daughter. What a funny twist of fate that was.

_"I don't know what to say, Sansa," Jon rubs his temple while Dany is pouring her third cup of wine.  
_   
_"You're not helping, Jon. He got her pregnant, can you believe? I knew they were spending way too much time together as children, and now, look what they've done. Unbelievable."  
_   
_"To be fair, Jon, I am your aunt and you seem to be more than alright."  
_   
_"Yeah, but... I don't know. It's different. They grew up together."  
_   
_"Cousins marry cousins all the time for many different reasons. The only difference is that Damaerion and Catelyn love each other."  
_   
_Dany sits next to Jon at the table. Her long silver hair was carefully put in a single braid before they left King's Landing, a black cloak covers her shoulders, her black gown still drenched from the snow. Lady Sansa sits in front of them, her braid is placed over her shoulder, lost in the furs on her shoulders.  
_   
_"Whatever they decide, I will support them, I promise you," Dany offers Sansa an assuring smile. "They don't have to marry if they don't want to. But I won't let Damaerion ruin Catelyn's reputation."  
_   
_"They love each other," Jon concludes. "They should have been more careful, but it is what it is. There's nothing we can do but support them. Catelyn needs you, Sansa."  
_   
_"I know," Sansa sighs. "I will talk to her."  
_   
_"And we will talk to Damaerion, just to make sure he's talking this seriously."_

Turns out, Damaerion did take it seriously.  
  
Little Sansa kisses her grandfather on the cheek while Rickon is holding onto his mother's leg, shyly peeking from behind. Jon understands the boy's reticence and rewards him with a kiss on the forehead, while Eddard, who likes to establish himself as the head of his family, stands proudly, bowing to his grandfather when he approaches him.  
  
Jon peeks under the young prince's cloak, and he swears he can see a carved wolf head on the handle of his wooden sword. Whether it's the admiration he has for his grandfather or simply the love for the North, Eddard feels sentimentally connected to it. He might be a Targaryen, but the Stark blood is running deep in his veins.

_Prince Naeron.  
_  
The young and comely prince is a perfect mix of his parents. His hair is silver, shining under the sun, but his eyes are as dark as the night. Much like his brother Balerys, Naeron stands tall and strong, with a posture of a stallion and nose in the air.  
  
Dany used to joke that he got that from his father, but Jon could honestly say that wasn't true. (It was).  
  
But he has a gentle heart, and so much love for his family. Little wild things, Dany calls her grandchildren.  
  
Ramonna, his wife, doesn't bow, but greets the King politely, and Jon expects nothing else from a wildling woman. He doesn't want them to change, ever.  
  
When Ramonna gave birth to twins, Varion and Vaenora, Jon joked that it happened because she and her husband looked like twins as well. Her hair is as pale as the moonlight, almost silver, and her eyes are two black voids.  
  
Even their youngest child, Lillia, who's already writhing in her father's arms, could pass as the third twin if she weren't much smaller than her siblings.  
  
Jon strokes Lillia's cheek. "I'm happy you're here, son."  
  
"Of course, father."  
  
Naeron is a skilled warrior, but he never found that one thing that would give him a reason to stay in King's Landing. So at the age of eighteen, when Tormund offered to take him beyond the wall on an adventure, Naeron accepted, and never looked back.

_"Mother, have you only been here once?" Naeron asks his mother while they're walking in the thick layer of snow, linking his arm with hers. Jon walks behind them with Longclaw at his side.  
_   
_"Beyond the wall? Yes. Not exactly the happiest time of our lives."  
_   
_"What happened?"  
_   
_"She saved my life, son. I wouldn't be standing here today if it weren't for her and Viserion."  
_   
_"I remember the story about mother's dragon dying. But I didn't know she saved you. What happened?"  
_   
_Dany swallows the lump in her throat. The dead bring back too many memories she wants to forget. She tightens the grip around her son's arm, flashing a slight smile at him. "Perhaps one day we'll tell you all about it. But now we want to hear about this lady of yours. What is she like?"  
_   
_"Well, she's a wildling. She's beautiful, mother. Her hair is almost as pale as mine, and she's very good with a sword," Naeron replies, eyes gleaming under the sunlight.  
_   
_"Your father loved a wildling woman once, before he met me," Dany smirks._

_"For real? What was she like?"  
_   
_"Wild," Jon laughs. "Wasn't good with a sword, but she was an excellent archer. She shot me three times once."  
_   
_"Oh, a true wildling, then?" Naeron chuckles. "Was she pretty?"  
_   
_"Well..." Jon rubs his graying beard. Dany snickers. "Let's just say I hope you have a better experience than I did."  
_   
_"This one's pretty, she's not like the others. She smells like fresh water and flowers. And..." Naeron stops in his tracks, urging his parents to stop walking as well. "I want to love her as much as you love mother."  
_   
_Dany feels the tears forming in her eyes. "My son," she kisses his forehead. "I'm sure she will be happy to have you."_

Naeron spends most of his days beyond the wall with his family, but when they come to King's Landing, it's never quiet. But Dany and Jon wouldn't have it any other way.  
  
Finally, the last child of Daenerys and Jon waits for her father near the steps, cupping her swollen belly.

_Princess Rhyanna._

The only child born to Daenerys and Jon whose birth brought her parents both joy and sorrow.

_Maester Vyrion holds a plate in front of Daenerys, cheese, bread and berries, but the sight of it makes her sick.  
_   
_"Your Grace, you have to eat," he says softly. Maester Vyrion delivered all six of Daenerys and Jon's children, and he was the one to inform the Queen that her sixth child would most likely be her last.  
_   
_"I am not hungry," Daenerys turns her head, holding the sleeping babe closer to her.  
_   
_A sudden knock on the door startles Dany. She expects no one else but her husband, who invites himself inside and sits next to her. Dany hands him their daughter, fixes the straps of her nightgown, looks at the princess' reddened, chubby cheeks.  
_   
_"Could you leave us, Maester?"  
_   
_"Of course your Grace," Vyrion bows down, leaves the plate on the side of the bed before leaving.  
_   
_"Dany?" Jon kisses her cracked lips. He can taste blood, he's almost certain.  
_   
_Jon doesn't pressure her to talk. He knows how she's feeling. He knows it took Dany three nights to wake up from what he thought would be an eternal slumber after she's given birth, and it scared him to death.  
_   
_Dany's eyes are fixed on Rhyanna, peacefully sleeping in her father's arms. She's a miracle baby, named after Queen Rhaella and Lyanna Stark, two exceptionally strong women who died giving birth to them. The only time Dany and Jon wanted their child to be named after someone from their lives.  
_   
_"She's her father's daughter," Dany finally rewards Jon with a smile. He can say it's forced.  
_   
_"You don't have to pretend around me, love," Jon cups her cheek. "It's okay to be sad. Talk to me."  
_   
_Dany lays on her side, urging him to lay on his back. Rhyanna sleeps on his chest, undisturbed by the movements.  
_   
_"There is nothing to say. You gave me six children."  
_   
_"But?"_

_"But I wanted more."  
_   
_"Dany..." Jon takes a deep breath. In his head he's carefully choosing the words before opening his mouth to speak. "We never plan for a babe. It's just something that happens along the way. One child, or six, Dany, we have a family. I love seeing you pregnant, gods, you know I do. Knowing that it's my child growing inside you fills me with pride, but it's not your womb or the number of children we have that makes us special. It's what we've been through. Honestly, I thought we'd only have one child. But then Balerys came. Aurora after him. Babe after babe and the Red Keep was slowly coming back to life. Now all you can hear is our children laughing in the halls."  
_   
_"And crying and fighting."  
_   
_"Aye, crying and fighting, especially."  
_   
_"I just... I wanted more children with you."  
_   
_"Dany-"  
_   
_"But you're right. Six healthy children," Dany rubs Rhyanna's back. "Born out of love."  
_   
_"Dany, I just realized something," Jon blurts out after a moment of silence.  
_   
_"What?"  
_   
_"We really did prove that witch wrong."  
_   
_"We really did, didn't we?" Dany laughs. "I hope she burns in all seven hells."_

"My sweet thing," Jon rubs her belly. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Pregnant," Rhyanna grins. "Glad to see you. Happy nameday. You're getting old."  
  
"Don't get brave now," Jon holds back a laugh.  
  
Before Jon can greet her Dornish husband, Prince Marek, baby Sienna throws herself in Jon's arms. The last time Jon saw her she was merely a nursing infant, but still the connection she feels with her grandfather seems to be overwhelming her.  
  
"Apologies, your Grace," Marek politely greets the King, before taking his daughter back into his arms.  
  
"Never apologize for something like that," Jon pats his shoulder.  
  
One more step and his children and grandchildren are now behind him. In front of him are two thrones made of solid dark wood, three dragons carved into each splat. But he cares little for the thrones. It's the sight of his wife waiting for him that has Jon's heart beating fast.  
  
Her hair is long, almost touching the underside of her bottom, now as white as the snow. Fire is still burning bright inside her, she loves as hard as she loved when she was only a young girl. Her heart is big enough for all people of Westeros, but in there is a spot reserved for Jon only.  
  
Her Jon. Her king. Her dragonwolf. Her husband. The father of her children.  
  
"I love you," Jon kisses her before she can say anything. "Thank you, thank you so much," he whispers against her skin, his tears wetting the side of her neck.

"Happy nameday, my love," she presses her cheek against his temple, savoring the moment, her own tears wetting her cheeks.

Outside, Drogon casts a shadow over the capital and the Red Keep, hiding the rays of the sun from the people. Behind her, four grown dragons dance with the wind, and behind them, three smaller ones trying to follow up.

What a beautiful life it is. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ages:  
Daenerys, 59.  
Jon, 60.
> 
> Elaenora, 36. (Hoster Tully)  
Daenerys, 13; Aeleron, 11; Aegon, 9
> 
> Balerys, 34. (Arella Arryn)  
Jon, 14; Helenys, 13; Elaerion, 10
> 
> Aurora, 32. (Riakh)  
Iago, 12; Rayna, 8
> 
> Damaerion, 30. (Catelyn, daughter of Sansa Stark)  
Anya, 10; Eddard 9; Sansa, 7; Rickon, 5
> 
> Naeron, 26. (Ramonna)  
Varion, Vaenora, 4; Lillia, 2
> 
> Rhyanna, 24. (Marek)  
Sienna, 1; Targling on the way
> 
> Maybe you noticed that there is no flashback for Elaenora. That's because I already wrote three fics centered around her, and I'll write more. The next time you see me it's most likely gonna be for FDKTWYT.


End file.
